


Esoteric Equinox

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Drama & Romance, Emotions, M/M, Moriarty has feelings, Sherlock Has A Crush, Sherlock has a dark side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 06:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14443776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: A young and talented MI6 operative is tasked to assassinate a criminal mastermind. But destiny had other plans





	Esoteric Equinox

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a homage to the twin geniuses who possibly are the only ones to understand each other's crazy! Equal, but on opposite ends, this story is about their coming together (pun intended too!!!)

William Sherlock Scott Holmes watched his target like a hawk.

 

As a young MI6 operative he had been tasked to keep an eye on an infamous international criminal mastermind, seduce him, take him to a hotel or some lonely place and slit his throat there. To accomplish this task, he had been trained for six months and counselled and advised by more than twenty people. The enemy was so formidable and feared that the preparations had to be commensurate with the status of the foe.

 

But right now Sherlock was in a dilemma. His target was here at the Billionaire’s Bounty Nightclub at St Tropez, the rich man’s watering hole, so the information supplied to them was correct. He had his training, he had his weapon, he had a drug that could be administered by touch so his enemy would be too drowsy to react, he had a perfect plan in place. Everything was working in his favour, including the fact that his target wasn’t here with bodyguards. Yet he wasn’t sure he could really get this job done. After ten immaculate years of service with British Intelligence, Sherlock was going to let the side down very badly and abruptly. He was sure of that tonight.

 

All because of the way his traitor heart was behaving. He couldn’t kill this man. This man was a magnificent specimen who had to be treasured, cherished and leveraged for the good. Even if he was evil right now there were so many redeeming qualities in him that he deserved a second, third and even a fourth chance. Sherlock wanted to heal him and not kill him. Killing him was just not an option.

 

He knew he was being watched just as he was watching others. The MI6 chief, his own elder brother Mycroft Holmes, had sent his battery of men and women to keep an eye on Sherlock lest the proverbial ‘slower’ younger sibling made a mistake or tripped.

 

_Was it too late for him to make a change of plans?_

 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and, unlike his usual style of not consuming alcohol on work nights, downed a stiff shot of whiskey.

 

“When was the last time you had one?”

 

The thick, sexy, lilting voice with a deliciously engaging Irish accent came inches from his right ear and Sherlock spun around so fast he almost toppled off his barstool. Surprisingly strong hands steadied him and dark doe eyes with bottomless depths twinkled at him.

 

“Did I just scare you with my forwardness?” The man asked.

 

“Um….no, just with your presence….um….no I mean your presence is just fine….I am….”

 

“Stammering?”

 

“Uh….yeah, clearly.”

 

“I am actually quite intrigued by the fact that someone as attractive and fetching as you is unaccompanied tonight. Is it because you don’t find the patrons here gorgeous enough? Or is it a broken heart that can’t replace the ex yet?”

 

 _Because I came here to kill you and now I think I am falling in love with you, what the hell is wrong with my crazy, crazy, traitorous heart, why is it playing tricks with me?_ Sherlock had taken so long to sort those thoughts out in his head that the other man completely misread his reaction and assumed he was not interested in a chat. Stepping back from Sherlock a bit, he smiled easily (a lovely smile that turned the dagger in Sherlock’s heart) and said, “I see! You don’t do well with strangers I think. It’s okay then, I won’t bother you anymore. Have fun tonight and once again, I think you’re enormously attractive and don’t deserve to spend this evening alone in one corner.”

 

“No wait,” Sherlock said quickly, not allowing himself any further afterthoughts, “Don’t go.”

 

“I can’t,” said the other man.

 

“Oh….”

 

“You’re holding my hand good sir!”

 

Sherlock blushed deep red and let go, cursing himself mentally for behaving like a self-conscious, starry eyed, squirming underage bride. What was wrong with him? He was an all-conquering hero, a spy who made James Bond look like a mere squawking puppet. Why was he acting like a schoolgirl crushing on a celebrity?

 

“Isaac Murtagh,” his new ‘friend’ extended a hand.

 

“William Scott,” Sherlock extended his hand as well. He knew the other man’s name was James Isaac Moriarty but for now this name would do. After all, he hadn’t given his own name either….at least not the entire name.

 

They shook hands, glancing at each other approvingly when they realized they both had a firm and confident handshake. While they looked different at first glance, they had many similarities lurking beneath the surface. Sherlock was tall, with alabaster skin, high cheekbones, a headful of dark brown curls, light greenish blue eyes and a lanky long-limbed build. James was of medium height, slender and graceful but somehow a tinier frame than his five feet eight inches showed, with jet black hair and deep brown eyes, an oval face and round cheeks, full lips and an immensely cute smile.

 

It was like a Swedish beauty queen being compared with a beautiful exotic Arabian princess. Behind the thin veil of their external differences were two women who were both gorgeous and admired.

 

Sherlock knew their case was very same. Outward dissimilarities but a wealth of identical aspects inside! He was sure that James had a mind as sharp and brilliant as his, a heart as strong and bold as his, a gut as solid and iron-clad as his was and they both harboured radical, life-changing ideas to revolutionize the world. Still, despite all those commonalities, it was unsettling how quickly he was getting drawn into the other man’s orbit. He had always thought of himself as acerbic, difficult to influence, indifferent to feelings, loathsome towards anyone who didn’t have any value to add to his life or work. But James was drawing him towards himself like a flame draws a moth, perhaps to be destroyed, but the moth can’t pull back even if it wishes to.

 

Talk idiot, talk. He is getting impatient. He will leave and find more interesting people to talk to.

 

Sherlock suddenly found himself reaching out and grabbing James’ hand. James raised his eyebrows and looked down at their joined hands and snickered, “While I don’t mind it at all my handsome hunk, that you don’t want to let me go. But you will have to let go for a brief while because I want to bring my drink over here. I spotted you all by your lonesome self and sauntered over for a chat, leaving my drink back there in that booth. I will be back beside you before you even know it. Oh by the way, do you want me to buy you another drink as well? Single Malt? Some Scotch you favour? Or a good vodka cocktail which is potent and for men like us?”

 

For men like us, he considers us in the same league.

 

Sherlock found himself smiling. “Yes,” he said, “Yes I’d like another drink. But not here.”

 

“Then where?”

 

“Your place.”

 

“MINE???”

 

“Do you have a wife or husband there? Perhaps a partner?”

 

“Hahaha, very funny! For a thousand years I have been looking for someone who befits the description ‘partner’ but nobody even came close enough to warrant my interest and effort. I am very much single my dear William. I was taken aback that someone as bashful as you could make such incredible progress in a matter of minutes and ask me to take you home with me.”

 

“Uh…um….I am a fast learner….I guess.”

 

“Then let’s go home,” James stuck his elbow out but was surprised when Sherlock just grabbed his hand instead, “Oh okay, you’re not a lady who would take my arm. This is fine, this is good.”

 

“You have a home here, is it?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Yes, very much so.”

 

“James, please listen to me and do exactly as I say.”

 

***

 

Sherlock stared in astonishment as James spread his legs and looked at him expectantly. His dark eyes were like twin jewels, shining with mischief and lust, and his hairs were splayed all around his head on the pillow, like a coronet around his head. To Sherlock this was the best and most arousing sight in the world. Gone were those moments when he felt he was destined to be alone forever, gone was that feeling of stubbornness that he needed nobody to be happy in this life, gone was the iciness in his heart which refused to welcome anyone else into it. Over the past two hours it felt like his life and thoughts had undergone a sea-change. Now he wanted to own James and belong to him in return.

 

“What?” James asked, looking a bit confused, “Second thoughts?”

 

“No Isaac, nothing like that,” Sherlock shook his head for emphasis, taking the condom from James’ hands and rolling it on to his straining erection, “Not at all. Just that….I have not felt like this ever before, this feeling of being so powerfully attracted to someone I don’t even know too well. I hadn’t expected you to be a bottom either, I thought someone like you would rather be the one in control, someone who’d rather assume the dominant position and take charge. Yet, you handed me the condom and I was like ‘Is this real’. No second thoughts, just pleasant surprises.”

 

“Hmmm,” James grinned, “Get on with it.”

 

“I might just become a bit…..”

 

“Beastly?”

 

“I dunno. I have never been with someone like you and you’re so…..”

 

“Passionate?”

 

“I feel the passion in so many places,” Sherlock grinned back this time, “I am streaked all over with bite marks and hickeys and scratches.”

 

“Awww…..uhnnnn!”

 

Sherlock supported his weight on his arms and hovered over James like a predator, his green eyes glowing with warmth and promise of things to come. “That’s it, I am inside you and I am going to own you Mr. Isaac Murtagh, be ready to go flying.”

 

James opened his mouth to say something but fell short of words as Sherlock began to move inside him, hitting his sweet spot dead on with every second thrust. The powerful, confident man was soon reduced to a babbling, moaning mess and Sherlock began to move faster and faster inside him, not yielding even an inch when his lover began to beg and plead for a touch to his cock.

 

“You will cum just from this,” he thrust in so hard James moved a few inches up on the bed, “Just from this!”

 

Small, slender arms and legs wrapped around him and Sherlock lay down on top of James and began to fuck him into oblivion. The longer he stayed inside this man, the more distant his other life became. Faces, images, experiences faded away, pushed to some remote corner of his mind and replaced by fresh images and incidents with Jim, Jim’s sinfully delicious body beneath him, Jim’s moans in his ears, Jim’s thick hard cock bobbing between their bodies as the smaller man tried his best to rut against him. “Oh God you’re too good,” Sherlock rasped out as an orgasm drew up on him with powerful intensity, “You’re going to make me cum so hard!”

 

“Fuck,” James chanted, “I’m cumming….I’m cumming…..ohhh I’m cumming!”

 

Warmth splashed between their bodies and Jim’s frenzied cries reached a peak. Moments later Sherlock let out a guttural cry and emptied himself inside his new lover, rotating his hips during the last few moments to feel a little more friction as James’ insides grew slippery with Sherlock’s seed.

 

Their movements slowed down and stilled. Then they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll feel you for days,” James whispered, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s neck. He looked less like the shark mastermind in a sharp suit and more like a young man in his thirties who looked even younger, with an innocent smile, the post orgasmic look of a debauched angel and a body that could easily belong to a ballet dancer’s.

 

“I am not done yet,” Sherlock said in a naughty tone, rubbing his nose with James’ and the kissing him on the lips.

 

“Mmmm, yeah you’re still hard.”

 

“Care for another round.”

 

James’ cock jerked between their bodies and Sherlock groaned with arousal and quickly took it in his fist. “More like, I am ‘UP’ for it,” James replied, clenching his arse and making the MI6 operative moan out loud again.

 

“Mooove William,” James whispered, body undulating with pleasure as Sherlock started to jerk him off.

 

“With pleasure my little angel,” Sherlock kissed James’ lips, then both his cheeks, then his forehead and his chin, “I want to be inside you all my life, to own you and love you and hold you like this,” he cupped James’ face in his hands, “Like I’d never let you go.”

 

James smiled and cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands too, whispering ‘When I hold you like this I feel like I own the world, ‘cause you’re my world’.

 

***

 

James opened his eyes and blinked, trying to get his bearings. He saw Sherlock sitting up in bed and looking at him, not a trace of sleep in those almond shaped eyes. “Oh boy,” he rolled over to lie on his back, “Do you look guilty?”

 

“Does it not bother you that your life is in danger,” Sherlock burst out, shaking James by his shoulders as the words rambled out of his mouth, “Does it not bother you that there were fifteen people in that nightclub who either wanted to abduct you, kill you or capture you? How can you sleep in peace? I have been stewing in my juices while you were out like the light the moment I pulled out. While I envy that quality, I can’t let you overestimate your prowess. Leave France right away and go undercover for some months. I implore you.”

 

“Relax, easy does it,” James got up and perched himself on Sherlock’s lap, smiling down at the taller man’s agitated face and taking his shaking hands in his own, steady grip, “I am completely aware of three things and that’s what keeps me alive and going. I am aware of my own strengths and weaknesses, I am aware of my surroundings and the dangers that loom close by and I am aware of what my enemies and rivals are planning. Nobody will be able to touch a hair on my head. Now, how about some more kisses and a good fuck?”

 

“God,” Sherlock closed his eyes, “How do I explain?”

 

“Explain this first,” James said, “Why are you so worried?”

 

“Because I have fallen for you. Crazy as it sounds, I can’t see you hurt.”

 

“Yeah, right. You’ve fallen for me? You came to the club as an assassin. It was your job to kill me Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

 

Sherlock gasped, “Oh….!!!”

 

“Relax,” James said, “I know you’ve softened. You could have attempted to kill me, at the club and later at my place or your place. The only reason you asked me to bring us to a safe house was because you didn’t want to end my life, not tonight at least. I believe you.”

 

“No,” Sherlock shook his head, “You still don’t believe me.”

 

“What did I not believe?”

 

“That I love you, whether you’re Isaac Murtagh or James Isaac Moriarty.”

 

“No, I do. Don’t look so surprised Sherlock. I know you do. Maybe had I not become a victim of the same ‘Love at first sight’ syndrome, I might have been sceptical. But the truth is that….I have fallen for you too.”

 

Sherlock blinked. “Let me explain then,” James began.

 

***

 

_24 hours earlier_

 

James Moriarty sat on the private beach outside his multi-million dollar property and looked at the latest updates he had received from his espionage network. He laughed as he went through the items, wondering how blissfully ignorant the human race was. They thought their data and details were safe, their secrets and plans were safe, their money was safe. But it was not. He had been given access and information to governments deals, military plans, World Bank accounts, locations of wanted criminals and dreaded terrorists and a bunch of artifacts which could be leveraged to blackmail the most influential men and women in this world.

 

He breezed through the items and replied to some of the emails, giving clear instructions about what steps to take on some of them, where they needed to hold back and which ones had to be simply watched for now. Suddenly a pinging sound came and a new email arrived. Normally James would have shoved it to the bottom of the pile and read it later but the sender was someone he trusted and had great respect for. One of his best and most resourceful spies. Her name was Irene Adler and she was slippery as en eel, seductive as a nymph and clever as a vixen. James instantly opened her email.

 

‘Beware of imminent danger. Your life and/or freedom might be compromised. Dreaded MI6 operative Sherlock Holmes, the younger brother of their chief Mycroft, will make an attempt tomorrow at the Billionaire’s Bounty Club. Be on guard and make the first move.’

 

Attached was a photograph.

 

James stared and stared and stared some more.

 

Those green eyes, those bow shaped lips, the innocent yet mystical face, the tall lanky build, sheer fire suppressed under an icy exterior and a bulky frock coat. This was an exquisite creature, just the sort James had hoped he’d meet someday.

 

For years he had been alone. There had been sex, drugs, rock and roll but James Moriarty had never let his heart slip through his fingers. He had kept a tight leash on his feelings, reserving it for someone who was deserving and dazzling. Someone who was ‘him’.

 

Sherlock fitted the description so well he almost salivated at the opportunity of meeting this MI6 man.

 

“So what if he’s the enemy,” James murmured, studying the photograph with interest, “Nothing is permanent. Not even enmity.”

 

He typed an email to Irene. ‘Will be there at the club tomorrow. Will make the first move.’

 

***

 

“If you remember,” James said to a shell-shocked Sherlock, “I did make the first move.”

 

Sherlock felt foolish and regretful at the same time. He should have been quick enough to put James out of danger and escape or tactful enough to not fall for the man who was an enemy to his nation, unit and his elder brother. Now he was well and truly caught between the devil and the deep sea. Having nothing to lie about, no desire to manipulate this man and no urge to escape from this situation, he chose to be the best thing he could at this point. He opted to be honest.

 

“I know this sounds crazy and you will probably think I’m doped or out of my mind,” he began, looking into Jim’s face and eyes despite the squeamish sensation in his chest, “But I think I might be in love with you. I had heard stories, tales, myths, legends about you, all of them super-impressive. Yet I had never imagined in a thousand dreams that meeting you would overshadow all that. The moment I looked at you, something just clicked. I knew I had found my destination. So far the journey had been exhilarating but it’s nothing compared to the delight I found in arriving at my destination.”

 

“I was your destination?” Jim seemed amused.

 

“It seems so now, laugh if you will,” Sherlock was decidedly downhearted.

 

“I am not laughing,” Jim returned, “Just surprised that you felt the same things I did.”

 

“How?”

 

“I was going to lure you into a rest room and kill you. But I looked at you and I wanted to carry you off instead.”

 

“Like a conquest?”

 

“Like a prize.”

 

“So now what?”

 

Jim seemed unprepared for the first time. All the prompt and ready answers he gave earlier showed a man ready to face any moment, person or situation. But this time Jim was unsure, a little hesitant. It made Sherlock squeamish all over again, a deep shudder running up his spine. What if James asked him to just leave and said ‘we will never meet again’? How was he going to accept that and walk out?

 

“James….???”

 

“Call me Jim. As for your question, I have two answers. It all depends on what you want to do Sherlock. One the one hand you have me, a new life with all its accompanying thrills and dangers and delights, a future that can be exactly what YOU make it to be. On the other side there is your work, a good job but we know the James Bond situation doesn’t exist. At the day you answer to bosses and your bully of an elder brother. You have your friends, family, colleagues, none of whom understand you. So, to find out what happens next, ask yourself the ‘all-important’ question. Which side would you choose?”

 

He took a breath and added, “Remember, it’s a one-way street. Whatever choice you make, you’d have to live it out for the rest of your life.”

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and imagined a world where things and people were exactly where they were in his current life. There was Mycroft, rising from the depths of the sea with a trident in his hand, like King Triton. There was this huge iceberg which soon took the shape of one of his colleagues, a man who always liked to show him down and prove himself to be superior. He saw himself as an island, surrounded by waves and dancing on the crest of each wave were a handful of friends and relatives he had, though he wasn’t close to any of them. They were around but none of them could get too close to him. Like waves and surf, they broke at his edges and withdrew.

 

Up in the air, floating on a cloud above him, was Jim. Smiling, effervescent, lively, dark and mysterious, intelligent and stunning, the perfect embodiment of all his dark and twisted desires. Yet those same desires were what made him feel so alive, so full of life.

 

“You,” he murmured, “I choose you.”

 

***

 

“Sherlock? Sherlylocks?”

 

“SHERLY???”

 

The voice grew louder and louder and the visions blurred and blurred. Sherlock suddenly felt himself time travel, as if the whole world was spinning around him and eras were passing by as he fell, fell, fell down a vast chasm and burst into a place so brightly lit he had to close his eyes and wince. The next moment he felt the ground rise up and smack him on the side of his face. “Ouch, fuck,” he clutched his shoulder and tested his lips with his tongue for any blood, “That really hurt.”

 

He saw Jim’s face before him. The Irishman was sneering, “Of course it did. You fell off the fecking couch.”

 

“Oh,” Sherlock looked around, “I am in Baker Street.”

 

“Dude stop this mind-palace thing. You freak me out.”

 

“Then don’t go off and leave me alone for long periods of time.”

 

“Sherly, I was gone for three days. Only three days.”

 

Sherlock looked so lost and peeved that Jim probably felt sorry for him. He pushed away his travel bag and flopped down on the couch, pulling Sherlock up by the arm and helping him sit next to him. The consulting detective disarmingly laid his head on the mastermind’s shoulder and stroked his smaller hands, biting down on his bottom lip as he tried to reconcile this Jim with the mind-palace Jim.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Jim said, “Tell me everything.”

 

Sherlock rambled on and on about the episodes in his mind palace, how real the world was and how they had connected, charmed the pants off each other and reunited at the end. Jim seemed keenly interested to understand all aspects of this ‘vision’ and asked Sherlock a few questions, like why he was an MI6 operative and not a detective, how Mycroft fitted into the whole picture, how the nightclub at St Tropez looked, even the details of the drinks and sex they had. By the time Sherlock was done, Jim seemed to have gone into a rather thoughtful mood.

 

“What’s the matter Jim?” Sherlock asked, observant eyes on Jim’s face, “You saw something similar didn’t you?”

 

“Oh well, yeah. There’s your deductive reasoning, which never fails.”

 

“My mind palace vision dug out forgotten pieces of that dream you had earlier.”

 

“It didn’t just remind me of it. It gave me conclusion.”

 

“What sort of conclusion?” Sherlock asked, holding both of Jim’s hands in his own.

 

“In my dream, I woke up just as I had finished giving you two options,” Jim said with a bright, satisfied smile, “In your vision you provided me with an answer.”

 

“Are we so similar that even our dreams and visions compliment each other?” Sherlock asked, awed by the turn of events.

 

“Is it a surprise anymore?” Jim snorted.

 

“Nope,” Sherlock lifted his head from the criminal’s shoulder and cupped Jim’s chin, “Nothing surprises me anymore. I am prepared for every eventuality Jimmy, as long as I go through the ordeal with you by my side.”

 

“I am going nowhere,” Jim assured, parting his lips for a kiss, “We are Esoteric Equinoxes Sherlock. Just like the two equinoxes a year where days and nights are equal, we are equals in every aspect. We are practically the same entity, two sides of the same coin, same packages wrapped in different covers. Just like something esoteric, we and our hidden relationship is a mystery to the world, a mystery only we know and manage. Who would give up on such an awesome thing darling!”

 

He used a high-pitched sing song tone for the last sentence, the tone he normally used with Sherlock when he was being playful or nostalgic. He knew it never failed to amuse or cheer up the consulting detective. It also made him feel a blast from the past, when he used to play mind games with Sherlock and they’d chase each other around London like bloodhounds on a trail.

 

Sherlock looked still, pale and speechless. “Hey,” Jim said encouragingly, “If I have to repeat myself, I am going nowhere Sherly. I am yours now, just as you are mine.”

 

With that, he leaned in again for a peck on the lips. Feeling strangely emotional, his heart wobbling in his chest, Sherlock kissed Jim’s forehead in an asexual and affectionate gesture before he captured those soft lips in a deep kiss, both men moaning out softly in unison. Even after the kiss had ended Jim reeled under the spell of that lip-lock, leaning heavily on to his taller lover to support his frame that suddenly seemed to tremble like jelly.

 

Sherlock wrapped an arm around him and finally said those words which he had long intended to share with Jim but never really got down to it since it sounded sloppy and too ‘sentimental’.

 

“Even if you go somewhere Jimmy, no matter where it is, your Sherly will follow.”

**Author's Note:**

> A kick in the teeth twist at the end - Hope you like it!


End file.
